The Michael Wade Adventures Part 1: The Invisible Child
by killey2012
Summary: My story is a long one, and it features fantastic tales. My name is Michael Wade, and I was born to die. It's the only way to fix time. This is the story of my life, and even though I die, I wouldn't trade a second of it. This is only the beginning of my story. My beginning is humble, and features but a mere invisible child, but what happens in one night, changes my life forever.
1. Journal Entry 00

**Hey guys/girls/time lords/wizards reading this. This is my first attempt at a fan fictions, didn't know they existed until a little while ago, and I thought that I would give it a shot. I'm kinda new, actually, really new, and if you guys that read read can just give me a review, that would be so awesome. If you find an error or something, please let me know so others don't have to see it. If you like it, give me a review. I promise that there will be plenty more to come. Please review! :)**

**I would also like to say, I'm an American trying to write like I'm an England native. I'm trying to keep it as British as possible, but all I have to go on are the things I've seen on television. So if my slang is off, or I've completely murdered language, please drop a hint. **

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Journal Entry 00

Date: August 2, 2013

Time is a funny thing. There are two types. First and foremost, and perhaps the most common of them is the standard time progression, which is always loopy at best. The second of which are fixed points.

My name is Michael Wade, and my birth is one of those fixed points. I was born for one purpose, and for one purpose only. My name is Michael Wade, and I was born to die. Don't read this journal thinking that it's going to change. I was always meant to die. And by the end of my journey's, if you can read it for that long, you will understand why I have to die.

I have to die because because my birth was never supposed to happen. All of time fought against my birth, because it wasn't supposed to happen. But it did, and it became a fixed point in time because of a man that I wasn't supposed to know. With a time lock in place, my birth was a sacred time that no one could touch.

And when the time comes, that is what my death shall be. My death will become the third and final possible time lock. With three time locks in place, something happens. I of course won't know. I'm writing this on my final day.

My final day is on August second. I've labeled this entry 00, because entry 1 is the beginning of my story. The beginning of my story takes place on August 1, when I was nothing more than a simple human.

The is the story of Michael Wade. This my story.

This is Michael Wade, Signing off.

For the final time.


	2. Journal Entry 01

Journal Entry 1

Date: August 1, 2013

You know what the most difficult thing in life is? There's driving cars, driving aeroplanes, there's skydiving is suppose, but really, the hardest thing to do is wake up in the morning.

I mean, you hear the steady beeping of your alarm. You hear it repeat over and over, and yet there is nothing that you can do to stop it, except wake up, and that's what is so hard.

Hmm, I suppose that I have jumped into this a little prematurely. I suppose I should start off my first Journal entry with a slight introduction. First and foremost, I want you to know that I'm only writing in this thing because my teach is requiring me to. It's not of free will. My teacher is requiring me to, so I am. Sorry Mrs. Jones, but I wouldn't be doing ths if you hadn't assigned it.

She said that I should try to turn my life into a story, whatever that means. I basically have to make everything I write sound like a Rowling novel. As if my life will be anymore interesting in novel form.

However, moving on, introductions. My name is Michael Wade. I'm just a sixteen year old kid. I have done nothing in this life that is particularly amazing or great. Just another human living out a particularly useless life.

It's not like there's much that I can do. I've been stuck in school for most of life. Spent loads of time playing football with my mate. The most successful thing that I've ever done with my life is get good marks in school.

I suppose that's enough introduction for me. There really isn't much for me to say. I supposed I should start to write this journal, oh, sorry Mrs. Jones, I mean story.

As per usual with my life, I woke up. That's why I started this off with that bit about the alarm. Nothing, absolutely nothing is worse than the ringing alarm in the morning.

I rolled out of bed, springing with a fury of excitement. Okay, not really, but that just sounds better than I rolled out of bed like a giant slug.

In reality, I rolled out, walking to my bathroom and taking a shower.

In my haste, I forgot to turn my alarm off. Cutting the shower short, I got out and turned off the incessant beeping.

Turning back around, I did something stupid. I ran my toe into my book bag.

I want to put what I said here, and since you want this in story form, I suppose the best way to do that is to put those little marks around it. Calm down Mrs. Jones, I know they're called quotations. I'm sixteen after all.

"What is in my flipping back," I yelled quietly bending down to massage the pain out of my toes.

All right, I'll admit, 'flipping' wasn't the word that I said, but since this is a school assignment, I shall refrain from too much profanity.

I scrunched my eyes with pain, trying to refrain from yelling out curses. Finally the pain receded from my toe.

The rest of my morning was particularly boring, but set the standard for the rest of my day.

It started off with the spilling of my cereal. To start off, I'm not a clumsy person. I wasn't even near the bowl when it happened. I got up from the table, grabbing a glass from a cabinet, pouring some juice in it, when I heard the cascade of broken glass.

I ran back to the dining room, and saw my shattered bowl lying on the ground. Milk was spreading out around the hardwood floor, and I sighed.

"No breakfast for me," I said, grabbing paper towels and throw them on the ground.

"What are you doing Mikey?" My mum asked popping her head around the doorway.

My mum was a good person, she really was. She was a frazzled red and brown mixed hair woman, which didn't match my bronzed color. My dad had left us just a little over a year ago, and things had been hard on her since then.

She struggled through on her own, but life was hard for her. And like I said, she was a good person. Right, this is an assignment, got to be careful what I write.

She looked at the mess on the floor. "Oh Mikey, that as one of my favourite dishes."

I bent my knees and used the towels to mop some of it up. "I'm sorry mum, I must have set it too close to the edge. Funny thing is, I don't remember doing that."

She gave a slight chuckle. "Just like me you are." She walked over, and pulled him up from his knees. She put her hands around my neck, and smiled. "You would loose your head if it wasn't attached to your head."

"Oh mum, we're not the bad. Now come on, I have to clean this up."

"It's fine," she told him. "Go upstairs and grab your bag. You're going to be late. I've got this."

"Are you sure?" I asked her, watching her genuine eyes. "I'm sure honey."

I nodded, and walked upstairs, getting my bag. I walked out, pulling the door firmly behind me. There was a slight catch, and if you didn't pull it with enough force, it wouldn't close properly.

The early August sun was already peaking over the treetops, and it was a nice twenty-one degrees Celsius, although, according to the weatherman from a local report, it was supposed to get hotter.

My bright orange shirt was reflecting the morning sun and shining brightly.

Everybody was up early, enjoying the break from the rain streak they'd had for so long. I walked a little ways off, and at the bus stop met a friend of mine named Tommy. Not that you need an explanation Mrs. Jones, but should someone else read this, I think it best that I describe him. He was short, with curly blonde hair. His ears were rather tiny, often covered by his hair.

Blazoned across his chest was an American flag.

He was an American exchange student, and liked to flaunt that with his overtly American apparel. He had replaced my mate Russell, who was apparently not enjoying his time in the States if his messages were any indication.

"S'up man?" Tommy asked. I'd managed to get a grasp on his American slang, and had just a little fun by teaching him British slang. It took him three detentions to understand why it was wrong to call a teacher a "Wanker." Sorry Mrs. Jones, part of the story.

"Nutin much man," I said, trying a terrible American accent.

"Don't do that again. Ever." He said, a smile covering his face. "You Brits aren't much better at accents than we are, are you?"

"Got it, and yes we are. It's a secret ability we all possess but must only use in times of great distress."

He laughed, a deep, sweet, ringing sound. The rest of the conversation was nothing that was very interesting, just Tommy and his latest obsession. He'd just discovered One Direction, and chatted animatedly about them.

I've always been a John Mayer and Coldplay type of guy, and wasn't really interested in the latest boyband.

Nothing else of great importance happened in the course of the day, unless you count the incident of me tripping going into school. Naturally, I did it in front of girlfriend, which made the cool side of me skyrocket.

Now I'm sitting here, right now, in your class writing this.

I think that ends my story for now.

This is Michael Wade

Signing off.

(See what I did there. Made it a proper little journal at the end.)


	3. Journal Entry 02

Journal Entry 02

Date: August 1, 2013

I didn't figure that I would be writing in it more than once a day, but you asked us to put down anything weird or interesting that happens to us, and do I have a story for you.

Since you're going to read this, you'll already know my day has been a little weird. But to extend it even further, the last two weeks have been weird, and I think I just got the answer. It was all thanks to you that I did. I would have never gone to the park when I did, and I wouldn't have met the strangest man of my day.

I'm going to start at the beginning of my tale, and it begins directly after your class. As you know, you're my last class of the day, and you asked to us go someplace special and write a journal entry about it.

Without you, I would have never went through. You started me on this, and this is the story.

"What are you going to do for it?" Tommy asked, his perfect teeth shinning in the bright sunlight. My hand was in front of my eyes to keep it from shining in them and blinding me.

"I'm thinking about going to the park," I said, looking over to him. "I've played a lot of football..."

"Soccer," Tommy said.

This is a running joke between the two of us. He is determined to continue calling football soccer.

I rolled my eyes and continued. "Anyway, I've spent a lot of time and it's a special place for me. I'll just write about going there. You want to come? We can play."

"Ahh," he said. "I've got nothing better to do."

And with that, we set off. We took a bus to the park, talking quietly about people from school. The park is never too busy on school days, so nothing more than few people walking around, and some parents enjoying the day with their children.

There were already people on the field. Tommy and I walked over. "Need a couple more players," I asked. I recognized some of the people there.

"Sure," they yelled, and soon the game was on. It was Tommy that kicked the ball too far left and right out of the field. The kick was very hard, and had it been dead center, no one could have stopped it.

I ran off to get it, and bent down, and rammed my head into something.

I took a step back, rubbing my head, and it was a little blurry.

"Hello there," I heard a man's voice say. I heard a few steps and then a closing door. I looked up. There was a giant blue box. 'Police Public Call Box' was written on the top of it.

I looked up and saw the man. He saw a pinstriped suit, and hair standing up. It was on the longer side and standing straight up.

"Who... Who... Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" I asked, finally managing to get back my ability to speak. "Doctor Who?"

"Just the Doctor," the man said. "Tell me," he said, not bothering to help me get back up. "You haven't seen anything strange here have you. Course you haven't."

"What?"

"Oh nothing," the man said. "I don't suppose you know where something strange is happening, would you."

"Right here," I said.

"Really?" He said, looking around. "I don't see anything weird."

"I'm just going to go back playing football," I said, just a little scared.

And with that, I walked away from the man that called himself the Doctor. I still can't explain the strange man, but he didn't seem, human. He was stranger than anyone I've ever met, and this is a park, it that tells you anything.

I decided not to stay much longer at the park, fearing that the man was some kind of peado, and I wondered off back home. I'll write a later entry about why the park is special to me, but I needed to write this down. I hear my doorbell now, so I suppose this is a good time to end. It's almost night now, and I'm ready for this strange day to get over.

This is Michael Wade

Signing off.

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The first part of this story is almost to the end. The next chapter will be the conclusion. The final chapter of this story will be the longest yet, and is going to take just a little bit more time than the rest. I know that I've promised one every Tuesday and Friday, this one will need just a little more time. There are many things that need to happen. Part two will drop some of the more journal type writing, and become more of a story.


End file.
